


Kill My Mind?

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Supervillain, Who's to Say, also i'm sorry for whatever this is, enjoy, i think it's also vital to include ABBA, is it THE craic, references to dr horrible which i hope we all knew were coming, superhero, they're in love or whatever, this is complete absurdism, which i so graciously did, you're welcome i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: The superhero and supervillain have, like, a LOT of friends in common, and at this point, it's starting to get annoying.
Relationships: Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Kill My Mind?

**Author's Note:**

> Absolute crack-fic. Enjoy.
> 
> Based on this post, and credit to these amazing people for this prompt:
> 
> https://musiclily.tumblr.com/post/639484847478407168/atonguetiedwriter-blondejaneblonde
> 
> and thanks to lululawrence for a push in the right direction!
> 
> Note: This was NOT beta'd, nor was it edited by anyone but me. For all of these shenanigans, I am deeply sorry and personally responsible.

“Stop trying to destroy the world!” Liam yells, throwing his gloved hands into the air.

“I’m not trying to destroy the world,” Louis reasons with him. “Just that specific restaurant.”

“Oh. Is—isn’t that the one Hannah got fired from?”

“Uh, yeah, after the manager repeatedly sexually harassed her. Yeah.”

“Very well then.” Liam retracts his thrown hands.

Louis gives a sarcastic bow. “With your permission, then, good sir.”

“I mean, I’d also let you kill him,” Liam adds, adjusting one sleeve of his purple jumpsuit.

“Thanks kindly.”

“You’re mostly welcome.”

Louis sighs. “Can we get on with this, then?”

“I already gave you permission.”

“Thanks, daddy,” Louis replies, concentrating hard, summoning his powers as his hands start to shake.

“Just scorch it, like, a little. Not a whole lot.” Liam purses his lips. “Don’t, like, actually kill him.”

“Wasn’t planning on it until you suggested it.” Louis’ hands shake further, and he starts to squint towards the building.

“Do you actually think he has to pay for damages?” Liam muses, adjusting his other sleeve.

“I don’t fucking know, do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Not really, no!”

“So this is, what, just an act of random vengeance?”

“Yes, precisely that!”

“Oh.”

“Now may I get on with it, daddy?”

“Please stop calling me that.”

Louis smirks, hands still shaking. “Shan’t.”

The entire front wall explodes.

“Oops.”

:

“Just fuck already!” Hannah yells, handing Louis a beer. She’s about five deep, toppling over onto the sofa beside Harry and accidentally shoving Niall, just a bit. It’s apparently Niall’s housewarming, but his tip of a flat doesn’t actually have heat. So, there’s that.

“Agreed.” Niall exhales, dislodging Hannah from her spot on his hip.

“Nah,” Harry concedes, taking a sip of his mojito. “They just like to fight.”

“Literally,” Liam and Louis agree. Liam steals Louis’ beer, taking a long pull of it.

“Rude,” Louis says, swatting at Liam’s face before taking his beer back. “I thought I was the villain in this relationship.”

“You are,” Caro says, nursing a glass of red wine. “And you’re not.”

“Very cryptic, thank you.” Louis rolls his eyes before shooting Liam a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” she responds, sloshing wine onto her blouse.

“No, you’re not,” Liam adds, stealing the beer back.

“All right, daddy.”

“Stop calling him that!” Niall and Zayn crow. It’s absolutely unclear how much either of them have had to drink, but likely, it’s a lot, knowing them. Zayn’s also vaping, sending the vapor in Harry’s general direction.

“Zed, stop it, I have asthma. We’ve been over this,” Harry mewls, pouting.

“Please stop calling me that,” Liam says next, also pouting.

“Whatever you say, daddy.” Louis grins, white-hot, taking back his beer as Hannah groans aloud.

“I can’t decide which one of you I hate more,” Hannah says.

“Pick me?” Louis requests, raising one hand.

“Not bloody likely.”

“Figures.” Louis collapses, trying desperately to suck in the vapor of Zayn’s pen.

:

Liam rings Louis’ mobile a week or so later. “Claire’s getting married.”

“Kay.” Louis shrugs his shoulders before flicking the fringe out of his eyes.

“And?”

“What,” he asks, rolling out of bed, checking his fingertips for tingling sensations. He reckons he’s at fifty per-cent capacity, give or take. “You want me to be your plus-one or something?”

“I want you to hold off on the violence for a bit.”

Louis snorts down the phone line, rolling his eyes as he stands up and goes to check his own mail. His fingers buzz. “I suppose I can postpone unleashing my death-ray on the world for a bit, sure.”

“Who are you, Dr. Horrible?”

He picks up two leaflets, an envelope, and a catalogue that he never actually signed up for, as it’s addressed to someone named Matilda Buford. “Nah, my singing voice leaves a bit to be desired compared to NPH.”

“That’s probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say in a very, very long time.”

“Really? Because I’ve got a full repertoire of musical theatre references just waiting for an audience.” He opens the envelope. “I’ve got an invitation, as well, so I suppose I’ll see you there.”

“Are you bringing someone?” Liam’s voice is sharp, soft, and something else that’s sort of right in the middle of both of those.

“I—hadn’t given the matter much thought yet. But maybe.” Louis’ quiet for a moment. “Are you?”

“I dunno. Maybe Matt or Cher.”

Louis hums, just barely audible over the gnashing of his teeth.

“Like, just someone I can chat to, you know?”

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I have to go. Lottie’s on the line, I’ve been meaning to catch up with her for ages.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Right. Okay.”

“See you there, then.”

They both ring off without saying good-bye, and Louis throws his mobile across the room.

:

Louis’ mobile’s not broken or anything, but he sort of feels like maybe _he_ is. Metaphorically.

He throws himself across the room, just once, but of course he’s completely impermeable, so he doesn’t break one godforsaken bone.

He just crushes a bookshelf, much to his immutable frustration.

:

For his own part, Liam goes out to intervene in a bar-fight, getting a split-lip for his troubles.

He licks the blood from his chin, watching the police take in the instigator, feeling strangely ambivalent.

Liam, after much consideration, finds that ambivalence can change to motivation, even of the fearful kind.

:

A loud-arse mobile ring-call wakes Louis up like two days later, midday, because of course it does. “Okay, what,” he groans into the phone.

“What,” Liam replies, voice low.

“What? I asked you. Like legit, asked you first,” he notes, because this is an obvious fact that requires stating.

“So here’s the thing,” Liam says next, which is not remotely related to obvious facts and is in fact causing Louis anxiety and concern.

“What?” Louis asks.

“Do you. Like.”

“Do I fucking _what,_ like?” Louis has reached a level of perturbed he hasn’t seen in a few days, and that’s saying something.

“Do you want to go to the stupid wedding with me?” Liam clears his throat. “Claire’s wedding.”

Louis stops for a half-second. First, there’s a pause. Then there’s a sigh. Then there’s this: “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“What, that’s not enough of a response?”

“Fuck off.” Liam is probably rolling his eyes. “I mean, yeah. It is.”

Louis gives an audible smirk down the phone line, if such a thing is possible, and Louis likes to this it’s possible. “Fine then.”

:

“God, I forgot how stupid weddings are,” Louis whispers, holding a stemless champagne flute.

“I did warn you,” Liam responds quietly, clapping Louis on the back. He’s gripping his own glass as though he is trying very, very hard not to break it. 

The restraint itself is perhaps super-human.

“Even gay ones.”

“Okay,” Liam says in warning tones, taking a sip of his drink, nearly coughing as the bubbles hit his nose. He barely comes up for air, shaking his head once to clear it.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, this wedding is gay, and weddings are stupid, and—”

“And so are you,” Louis responds, snorting into his champagne before he can help himself.

“Okay, and, fuck you, I’m only sort of gay, bi is a—what—okay, so—and I was—I was joking when I warned you, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I think they’re romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“And stupid, I guess.”

“Romantic is stupid,” Louis says, quietly, slowly.

“Yeah. I guess.” Liam pulls a long draught from his glass. “These aren’t big enough.”

“You’re not big enough,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes. He wordlessly switches his own champagne glass for Liam’s. 

(Wordlessly doing things isn’t entirely in Louis’ wheelhouse, but it stands for now.)

Liam grins brightly, drinking down the rest of the champagne. “Like you’d know.”

Hannah swoops in from almost nowhere, swatting both Louis and Liam over the head with her clutch. “Just fuck already. Please. Please!”

Harry, also appearing from the ether known as almost nowhere, purses his lips as he loops his arm through Hannah’s. “Agreed. We’ve got a bet going.”

Hannah extricates her arm, moving to swat at Harry with her clutch. “That was a secret, you twat!”

“You’ve a _what now?”_ Liam’s grin switches to an incredulous frown and he raises a brow.

Harry shrugs, running his hands through his hair, pretending not to nurse the spot where Hannah hit him. “Tried to warn you.”

“I keep hearing that,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest with slight difficulty, given his glass.

“And also, no. You didn’t.” Liam’s frown deepens.

“Excuse me, Liam, I—” Harry starts, to no avail.

With one flick of his wrist, Liam silences Harry. He gets annoyed when Harry smiles at the sensation, so he quickly lets him go.

“The bet was my idea, you idiots,” Hannah says next, bodily blocking Harry as though that motion could perhaps impede something sinister from Liam.

“Hate to be the voice of reason, but I think we’re interrupting this wedding,” Louis says, gesturing to the front of the room with his completely and mournfully empty champagne glass. “Reckon we can return to this melee later.”

:

Later, at the reception, when they’re dancing to an ABBA song, Louis grabs Liam’s wrist, jaw clenching as he does so. He bites his bottom lip. “You’re, like, annoyingly muscular.”

“Okay,” Liam responds with a drunken nod, fringe falling over one brow. “Does that bother you?”

“You bother me.” Louis lets go of Liam’s wrist, rubbing at the back of his own neck.

“You know, you don’t need to, like, neg me or whatever.”

“What?”

“To be negative. To reel me in or whatever,” Liam adds, shimmying his hips to a _gimme gimme gimme_ “You don’t need to. Like. Be negative. Bait and switch. Heel and hook.”

“Pretty sure that last one’s a wrestling move, love,” Louis’ brain is moving slowly.

“I thought it was ABBA.” Liam stops shimmying, nodding his head once. “Wait. I think I’m drunk.”

“I think we both are,” Louis agrees, which is only half-true. “Let’s go to bed,” he says next.

“I’m not gonna lose that bet, though,” Liam slurs, knocking one elbow into the air. “I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

“Nor I you.” Louis rolls his eyes, narrowly avoiding Liam’s other elbow.

:

Louis walks Liam to his hotel room after four missed attempts related to correct room numbers. He tucks Liam into bed with great difficulty, removing his shoes like they’re both in a knife-fight. (Liam’s combative, Louis concedes that point only after the successful removal of said shoes.) He considers taking off Liam’s suit, then considers better of it, per previous almost knife-fight. Thoughts considered duly, he starts for the door.

“Stay?” Louis hears, belatedly, muffled by a hotel pillow. “Please?”

He turns around, suddenly feeling very, very sober and increasingly stupid. “I’m not a dog.”

“No. I know. Stay _with_ me.”

“I’m not losing the bet or anything,” Louis warns.

“I wasn’t im—what’s the word. Fuck. Implicate. Wait.” Liam chuckles. “I wasn’t implying anything.”

Louis is already walking back towards the bed, slowly. “And if you were?”

“Then I guess we’d both win the bet.”

“Meaning what?”

“Your alcohol tolerance is way higher than mine?”

“Okay, true,” Louis says, kneeling his way to Liam’s side, making sure they have space in between their bodies. “But also? More to the point?”

“Oh!” Liam laughs louder, throwing his arm sideways and unintentionally hitting Louis in the face. “But also, I do want to kiss you.”

Louis shakes his head against his own damask-covered pillow. “Fuck, if you aren’t an idiot.”

It’s likely that Liam can’t hear him, because he’s already asleep.

If he weren’t asleep, he’d likely agree.

:

“Fucking hell, I’m hungover,” Liam groans.

“Yeah. You are,” Louis agrees from the foot of the bed. “Empirical evidence suggests it.”

“This is your fault!”

“How is this _my_ fault?”

“You’re the villain in this relationship!”

“And what is this relationship, then?” Louis asks, tossing a croissant vaguely towards Liam’s hungover head.

Liam sighs, snaking one hand above the coverlet to retrieve the croissant. Biting into the pastry, he says, mouth full, “I want to kiss you.”

“What?”

“I said, I want to kiss you.”

“You said it just now, or you said it before?”

“I said what I said!” Liam yells.

“You said it just now, or you said it before?” Louis repeats.

“Both times.”

Louis waits a beat, rounding the bed towards Liam.

“Do you want some of my croissant?” Liam asks, snaking his hand back outside the coverlet, arm aloft.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“Good,” Liam says as Louis leans in to take a bite. Liam’s arm is clumsy, as are his words. “Because it took a lot of effort to even offer it to you.”

“Oh, did it?”

“Yeah. Thought you wouldn’t take it.”

“Take whatever you’ve got to offer, stud.” Louis rolls his eyes again, without spite this time. He yanks the croissant away with his teeth.

Mouth full, Louis pulls back the coverlet from Liam’s head and kisses his sweat-drenched forehead.

It’s not like he wins the bet, but it’s also like he absolutely does.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: musiclily


End file.
